


This Melancholy Soundtrack to Her Smile

by Chash



Series: Bellarke AU Week [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Ella Enchanted, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4402244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke has no desire to get married; she's still nursing a broken heart. But her mother insists on the balls anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Melancholy Soundtrack to Her Smile

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was having inexplicable amounts of trouble coming up with a crossover to do? I don't even know, I have so many drafts that are just a note to myself saying WRITE AN AU OF THIS and none of them were speaking to me, so, whatever, banging out an Ella Enchanted AU. Ella Enchanted, if you haven't read it, is an excellent Cinderella retelling, and you should def check it out. I'm not confident I did it justice, but it turns out once you think the phrase "Cinderellamy," there is no going back.

Clarke is not looking forward to her birthday celebration. More specifically, the three balls that her mother wants to have to find her a spouse. She is really, really not looking forward to those. Who gets married based on three masquerade balls? It's stupid.

"If you'd chosen someone the normal way, there wouldn't be a need for this," her mother finally snapped, two days before the first of them. It was true, but it also _hurt_ , because Clarke had tried, she really had. There had been Lexa, back when they were children, but Lexa had grown up and married someone else, and Clarke couldn't hold that against her. 

And then there had been Bellamy.

She'd first met him at her father's funeral, and he made her feel better, coaxing a smile out of her with memories of meeting her father at dinner parties, helping her from the crowds, being generally older and charming and comforting. Two years later, she'd done the same for him and his sister both, at their mother's funeral, and she'd found excuses to see him after. He was only a minor noble, but her mother has never cared about that. He would have been a more than acceptable husband.

But then he ran away with someone else.

She still has trouble believing it. She was out of the kingdom for a year, but they exchanged letters often, and when she wrote and asked if he might consider a marriage when she returned, she'd thought it wasn't unlikely he'd agree. She'd thought he liked her.

Instead, he took his sister and married some wealthy heiress so they'd have all the riches they ever wanted. By all rights, she should be betrayed, furious, and she _is_ , truly, but--

Honestly, she still can't imagine marrying anyone else.

"These are going to be awful," she tells Wells, helping him with his mask.

"Didn't your Bellamy have brothers?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows. "Won't one of them do just as well?"

"Step-brothers," she says, wrinkling her nose at the thought of Finn and Cage. Finn had been courting one of her ladies until he thought he had a chance at her because she came to see Bellamy so often; given she'd known about the courtship and the abrupt and disrespectful way he ended it, he'd never stood a chance. Cage, on the other hand, she simply _loathes_. "I'd rather have the sister, but he took her with him."

Wells claps her on the shoulder. "At least there will be wine."

"At least there will be wine," she agrees.

*

Clarke supposes she should be thankful that her mother will let her marry anyone she likes, regardless of class, nationality, or gender, but it mostly means there are a truly staggering number of people here. Every marriageable maid and fellow who could possibly make it has come, and with all of them in masks, the great hall looks like a sea of limbs and butterflies.

"I'll never come close to meeting even half of them," she whispers to Wells. "Not even a third."

"Don't fret," he says. "I'll take the pretty girls."

She has to laugh. "Not if I get to them first."

The first hour goes blessedly quickly; she alternates dances between men and women, which keeps her from having to say yes to any partner twice in a row. The persistent ones, like Bellamy's step-brothers, still come back for more, but she manages to remain polite.

The second hour starts to drag, as the dances become repetitive, the conversations uniform and dull. They exchange names, she asks how her partners are enjoying the ball, if they've traveled far, and then tries not to think about all the things she'd rather be doing. Being slowly beaten to death with a pillow is starting to seem like an improvement.

At ten past eleven, a fellow in a silver mask that covers all of his face except his mouth asks her to dance, in Trigedasleng, and it's the most interesting thing to happen to her all night.

"You speak Trigedasleng?" she asks, stepping into his arms. His accent is a lot better than hers.

He shrugs, modest. "A little. I'm from Polis and my--cousin's betrothed is Woods Clan."

"I was just there for a year," she says. "My--well, I was supposed to be betrothed to one of their princesses, when we were children. She married someone else, but we're still friends."

He smiles at her, and it reminds her of Bellamy, twisting up her stomach. It's not hard to remind her of Bellamy, these days, but still, the warmth in her expression feels like a punch in the gut.

She can't possibly marry anyone else, can she? No matter how angry she is with him, no matter how much he hurt her, her heart still belongs to him.

"I heard about your trip," her partner says, pulling her attention back to him. "It was exciting news, for us. You stayed in my cousin's betrothed's family's inn on the way back."

She has to smile. "That's quite a mouthful. Do you always call him that, or is it for my benefit?"

"His name is Lincoln."

"And your name?"

"Orion."

"It's nice to meet you, Orion." It's the first time this evening she's meant it. He's familiar and comforting, and if he reminds her of Bellamy--well, she's allowed to have some small indulgences, isn't she? It's not as if she's going to marry him, not just for making her think of someone who broke her heart. And it's nice to have someone to talk to. "I'm Clarke."

"I know that, your highness," he says, amused.

"Yes, but that's what you should call me."

"I couldn't."

"I've asked you to. If you don't, you're disobeying your princess."

He doesn't quite laugh, but it's close. "You're right, that would be much worse."

"You're close to your cousin?" she asks. Family seems like a safe enough topic of conversation.

"Yes. She's more like a sister to me."

"What's her name?"

"Lina."

"I take it she isn't in attendance, if she's already betrothed."

"She wanted to, she loves parties. But she's not here, no. I could only come because my father had business in the city and allowed me to come instead. He wants to hear about the castle."

"And what will you tell him?"

"Very fancy. Overdone. Gaudy, even. An excess of wealth."

Clarke has to laugh, and from what she can see of his face, she thinks he's pleased. "That bad?"

"He'll be impressed."

"Well, as long as our gaudy, overdone castle is impressive."

The song winds down, and Orion releases her. Clarke is a little regretful, because it was the best conversation she's had. "I'm dancing with a lady next," she says, smiling at him. "To be fair. But--may I find you later? For another dance."

"I would be honored," he says, and blends back in with the crowd. He isn't tall, and his skin is darker than hers--like Bellamy's, her mind supplies--which makes sense, if he's from Polis. His hair is black and straight, and his shoulders broad.

She likes him better than she liked any of the others she saw, but--it wouldn't be fair.

By the time she's free for another dance, she can't find him, so she dances with Wells and Raven instead, to have some kind of break.

"Any prospects?" Raven asks.

"You know there aren't."

"Look, you shouldn't--" She huffs. "I know you liked that guy. But you're going to like someone else, someday. It's going to get better."

Raven was engaged to Finn, when he decided he'd rather have Clarke. Raven knows what she's talking about.

"I know. It's just not better yet."

Raven kisses her temple. "Yeah, I know."

*

The next night, she finds Orion earlier. He's wearing the same style of mask, the one that conceals most of his face, but this one is midnight blue blue. His hair is slicked back again, which is never something she's found attractive, compared to natural disorder, but--he looks nice enough.

She is not thinking about Bellamy.

"Good evening," she says to Orion.

"Good evening." She can't really see his eyes through his mask--there's something over them, some strange sheen of mesh or something--but he must be able to see well enough, because he looks down at her and says, "You look lovely."

She feels herself flush. "Thank you." She pauses. "I--I hope you haven't--I'm not planning to marry, so if you just want to dance with me because--"

"No," he says, surprisingly quickly. He offers his hand, and she takes it. "I didn't come here to marry anyone," he tells her. "I came to see the palace and to meet a princess. And I have. I'm satisfied with what I've gotten."

It rings a little false, but Clarke supposes she shouldn't try to call him out on it. He's attempting to be gracious in the face of rejection, and she should do him the courtesy of not fighting him on it.

"So, if you're not going to marry, what's the purpose of the balls?" he asks, as they start to dance.

"My mother insisted. She's worried about me."

"Should she be?"

"If she wants me to marry, yes. Since I won't be. But otherwise, no. I'll be fine."

His hand tightens on her waist, briefly, surprising her. "That means you're not fine now," he remarks, soft, and it makes Clarke want to cry, a little. If she'd met someone like him before everything, she might have wanted to marry him.

"No. But I will be. So she needn't worry."

They finish the dance in silence, and Clarke finds him for two more. He chats with her about the city, sharing his impressions, and she tells him her stories of Tondc, the Trikru, and anything else that crosses her mind that isn't too painful to think about.

Bellamy's step-brother, Cage, catches her after she's danced with Orion three times.

"It's quite a mask he's wearing."

"I like it," she says, sweet. "Some people's faces are improved by masks. Speaking of which, whatever happened to yours? Weren't you wearing one earlier?" Most people take them off early; it is a little strange Orion didn't, but she doesn't think it should matter.

He grimaces, very briefly, and she takes vindictive pleasure in it. If only he had something to hide his expression, she might not have noticed.

"He's a nice man," she continues, when he doesn't respond. "Interesting to talk to. And I am here to meet new people, since there's no one among my current acquaintance I want to marry."

They finish the dance in silence, and Clarke feels good enough about besting him that she doesn't even mind, so much, that she can't find Orion again.

*

The third night, everything goes--well, everything just _goes_. It's hard to say if it's for good or ill, but she really _wants_ it to be good.

Orion shows up again, dances with a few other girls, chats with Miller and Monty, and Clarke could see how it could be, with someone like him. Maybe someday, when her heart's scabbed over, she'll go to Polis and see what he looks like under his mask.

She introduces him to her mother, because she hasn't introduced anyone yet, and her mother is quietly despairing. She emphasizes that they're friends, and it's at least evidence that she has successfully interacted with another person.

"You're really never getting married?" he asks, when they're dancing again.

"Sorry."

"Not for me," he says, quickly. "It just--it's a shame you're never going to marry. You should be happy."

It reminds her so much of Bellamy, talking to her father's funeral, trying to make her feel better, that she almost starts to cry.

And then, Cage, passing behind them as he dances with another lady, reaches up, and unties the mask. Clarke is going to yell at him, she really is, but that's Bellamy in front of her, hair slicked back, looking horrified, and, all things being equal, she'd much rather yell at him.

Until she really sees his face, anyway; he looks like he feels the same way she does about the whole thing, like he broke his own heart too.

"You're not married to some heiress," she says, suddenly sure.

"Fuck," he says. He looks so helpless, so miserable.

"Bell--" she starts, but he lets her go and runs, and Cage catches her arm before she can follow. It's a reflex, she can tell; he clearly had no idea his step-brother was under that mask either.

"Do you want me to punch you?" she asks, getting right in his face. "Don't think I won't just because we're in public. I don't care how many people see."

"I thought you deserved to know what you were getting into," he says, dumbly. "How did he--"

If it was anyone but Cage, and if Bellamy hadn't been so clearly horrified, she might have been grateful for the revelation. He wouldn't have come, if he didn't want to see her. She slots the pieces into place--he switched a cousin for his sister, put in plenty of lies about his family, but the concern and affection he's always had for her too, and the warmth, that was all real--and comes up with the only possible conclusion: he does love her, and something else happened to make him stop speaking to her. Maybe Cage.

"You'll probably regret that," she tells Cage. "You really didn't want me to know what he looked like."

Cage opens and shuts his mouth, still dumbstruck, and Clarke has better things to do than talk to him. She tries to find Bellamy, but the crowd is too thick, and she can't get far without people trying to talk to her, to ask for a dance, to wish her a happy birthday.

"You're always so dramatic," Raven observes, coming up by her side with Wells. "What, did you tell him you didn't want to marry him and he left in a huff? He was cute, I would have reconsidered."

"I do want to marry him," she says, absent. "Have you seen Finn?" She's lost Cage now, too. Besides, she prefers Finn. At least he's just stupid, not malicious.

"What the hell do you want with Finn?"

"Step-brother."

Raven's eyes widen, and she looks around the room. "That was him? He showed up here after--"

"Lying to me," Clarke says, but she doesn't feel angry about it, she can't. He disguised himself and came to three balls--and he _hates_ balls--just so he could dance with her a few times, talk to her, make her smile.

He can't be married. He can't have run off to marry someone else, and he had another reason for pretending he had.

"You look really happy about being lied to," Wells observes.

"Finn's by the door," Raven cuts in.

"Great," says Clarke, grim. "We can get a ride in his carriage."

It's an awkward trip. Raven and Finn were friends for a long time, until, well, Finn thought he might have a chance with Clarke. Wells and Raven have always been primarily connected through Clarke, and Wells hasn't met Finn at all. No one has much to say.

"Did Cage write me a letter saying Bellamy had gotten married?" Clarke finally asks, conversational.

Finn's not quite quick enough to cover his confusion, and then, after consideration, he doesn't try. "If he did, he didn't tell me. I don't know why he would have."

Clarke nods, lapses back into silence, looking out the window as they speed closer and closer to Bellamy's step-father's home. He must have written the letter himself. There was a goodbye note, to his family, included, and she could tell it was his, his voice, his words. 

There's got to be an explanation, and either it's good, and she'll forgive him, or it's bad, and she'll punch him. Either way, she'll feel better.

"He probably isn't here," Finn says, fidgeting outside the door. He's not a very good actor.

"Then it won't take long," she says, bright. If Bellamy didn't leave the city, she doesn't see why he would have left the house either. Octavia isn't of age, wouldn't be allowed to leave on her own, and Bellamy wouldn't go anywhere without her. 

The woman who opens the door is plump and hard-faced; Clarke can tell the exact moment she recognizes her princess, and she bobs into a curtsy. "Your highness. My Lord Finn."

"Good evening, " says Clarke. I'll need to see the entire household. Please summon everyone. Family and servants." She glances at Wells. "Can you make sure she finds everyone?"

Wells gives her an odd look, but Clarke's ready to have an explanation for all this. Dante's father married Bellamy's mother only a year before her death, and he's since remarried to Lady Collins. She wouldn't be surprised if he and his sister weren't treated very well in the household; they're essentially orphans in their own home. 

Maybe she'll have them all exiled.

Lady Collins comes down in her dressing gown. "Your highness," she says, with what sounds like genuine surprise. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"I'm looking for some friends," she says. The servants file in, but she doesn't see Bellamy and Octavia among them. "Is this everyone?"

"Yes," says Finn, at the same time Wells opens the back door and herds in Bellamy and Octavia. They're both dressed poorly, heads bowed, looking anywhere but at her. Her stomach twists itself up.

She whirls on Lady Collins because she can't be angry at Bellamy and Octavia. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Of what?" she asks, cool. "That is Cinder, our hostler, and one of the scullery maids. No one to concern yourself with, your highness."

He does look up at that, meeting her eyes for the first time. But he doesn't look upset or offended; she's never had trouble reading him, and relief is painted all over his face.

She tugs him up from where he's kneeling, and then gets Octavia too, checking her for injuries. She's thin and dirty, but unharmed, and Clarke smiles, feels herself relax when Octavia smiles back, just a little. 

When she looks back at Bellamy, he's watching her openly, drinking her in, and she can't help taking his hand.

"You don't want to be Bellamy?" she asks, soft, just for the two of them.

"I really do," he says, squeezing her hand. "But I can't."

"I'd still like an explanation, your highness," says Lady Collins, and Clarke turns back. She doesn't let go of Bellamy; she's not sure she's capable of letting go.

Cage has arrived, looking like he's sucking on a lemon. It's that as much as anything that makes her say, "I was hoping to marry your hostler, but it sounds as if that may not be possible."

"Of course it's possible," snaps Cage, to her surprise. "Tell her you'll marry her, Bellamy."

It's a bizarre comment, even stranger for the fact that it sounds as if he expects to be obeyed, like it's a commandment from on high.

"Cage--" Finn starts.

"She's made her choice. We should make the best of it. Marry the princess, Bellamy. Think of how much good it will do for Octavia."

Bellamy pulls away from her, looking _murderous_ , his jaw twitching, his fists clenching.

"That's not a good reason to get married," she says, trying to make him smile.

"Bell--" Octavia starts, but Cage cuts her off.

"Be quiet, Octavia," he says, and to Clarke's surprise, she is, although she looks as angry as Bellamy.

"You be quiet," Clarke snaps at him. "This isn't any of your fucking business." She smiles at Bellamy, but it doesn't help. He's shaking, sweating, looks like he might be ill. "Bell, it's fine. If you don't want to--"

"I can't," he says, in a rush, like the words have exploded out of him. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I love you, I can't marry you, there's no way--"

Octavia is staring at them; Clarke is still trying to figure out how _I can't marry you_ follows from _I love you_. 

He cuts himself off, blinks, shakes his head, and looks at his sister. "O," he says, cautious.

"Jump up and down," says Octavia, grinning.

He grins back. "No fucking way. Don't punch Cage in the face."

Octavia laughs, a pure, delighted sound. "Don't you feel dirty just saying that?"

"You're the one who's listening."

Octavia cracks her knuckles and looks at Cage with an expression like a wolf; Clarke wants to see his reaction, she does, but she's frozen, staring at Bellamy in confusion.

"You've got a princess," Octavia reminds him, and Bellamy shifts his attention back to her. 

"Right, I, uh--" He wets his lips. "I was wrong. I could definitely marry you."

He takes her hand again, tugs her in, gentle, and leans down to kiss her. He tastes like dirt and soot, and she doesn't want to ever let him go.

"I'm still expecting an explanation," she says, when she finally manages to pull away.

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I--" He looks around for his sister, who does seem to have punched Cage. Raven is looking at her approvingly, and Wells is with Lady Collins, like he expects she might start throwing punches too. "We really need to get out of here."

"Yeah," Clarke agrees. She forgot about their audience.

"He is cute," Raven says, amused, and Clarke buries her face against his chest.

*

They decide to walk back to the castle, leaving Wells, Raven, and Octavia to take the carriage.

"There was a curse," he says, after a few minutes of silence. His voice is soft, hesitant. "Or--she thought it was a blessing, I guess. A fairy came to Octavia's birth. She saw me holding her and thought I was such a good brother, we deserved a reward. So she blessed my mother with obedient children."

Clarke frowns. "Obedient children?"

"It took us a while to figure it out. For the first few years, she just told me to take care of O, and I did that already, but--we started meeting other people, and I figured out I couldn't disobey anyone. Ever. And Octavia couldn't either." He shrugs, deliberately casual. "It wasn't so bad, at first. Octavia and I both had to obey each other, so we got to a truce pretty quickly, once she was old enough to understand, and Mom never gave us commands, once she figured out how much we hated it. I just kind of avoided other people. But then O's dad died and she married Dante, and--he and Cage give commands like breathing. And once Cage figured out we had to obey everything they said--"

"Shit."

"Yeah. It was awful." He rubs his thumb against hers. "You were the only good thing I had going, besides Octavia. But if I'd married you with the curse, Cage would have--" He shakes his head. "I couldn't let him have so much influence over the country. If he'd told me to kill you, I would have had to do it. And even without him, Octavia and I would have been liabilities. I couldn't risk it. Someone else could have figured it out. Or just gotten lucky."

"You could have told me," she says, but even as she says it, she thinks he couldn't have. It's a lot of fucking trust, and she's not sure she could be that confident about a person.

Maybe him. But she's still not _sure_.

"I couldn't," he says, with a lopsided smile. "One of the few things our mom told us was that we weren't allowed to do is tell anyone about the curse. And--what would you have done, anyway?"

"Told you to never listen to Cage again," she grumbles, and he laughs.

"Octavia tried that. He figured it out, and told both of us we couldn't ever try to hurt him or work against him."

"I'm going to exile him. Or murder him."

"Exile him," he says. "Even if you're the princess, you can't just murder anyone you like."

"You don't want to kill him?"

"I'm free," he says, and Clarke tries to imagine what it would be like, to have lived for seventeen years with a curse like that, always knowing that someone's errant word would be law. She hugs his arm, and he smiles at her. "Hard to be too angry at anyone right now. But you should definitely exile him."

"You're going to be a prince, you can exile him too."

He clears his throat. "I never did, uh--I think I could give you a better proposal. If you want one. It kind of got lost in some other things."

"Are you going to marry me?"

"Yes."

She grins. "There we go. Best proposal ever."

He laughs and kisses her temple. "Best proposal ever."


End file.
